


Fall in Flame

by Mertiya



Series: Falling Rings [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dark, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Racism, M/M, Maeglin being very confused and kind of happy, Mairon being a power bottom, Or talking about it anyway, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sauron's love language is murder, Self-Esteem Issues, there is no actual murder in the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:10:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: Mairon takes Maeglin to bed.
Relationships: Maeglin | Lómion/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Falling Rings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1899013
Comments: 14
Kudos: 44





	Fall in Flame

**Author's Note:**

> compliant with Black-Eyed, but you don't really need to have read it in any way

Maeglin whined at the touch of hot lips on his cock, fisting his hands in the silken bedsheets. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Sauron purred, and Maeglin whined again as he pulled back and began to kiss along his Maeglin’s inner thighs. “With your pretty little cock standing up like a flagpole and your hair like midnight spread across the pillow.”

“I’m—I’m not beautiful,” Maeglin choked out.

“Are you questioning my ability to assess beauty?” A sharp nip at his thigh made him cry out in pain, but it wasn’t precisely a bad pain. Closer to a bad pain was the way his throat choked up. 

“No—L-Lord Sauron—but no one has ever thought me beautiful, I—I am t-too dark and—”

“Obsidian is dark.” Sauron sat up and loosely twisted his hand around Maeglin’s cock, and he gasped, his hips twisting up to chase the sensation—and then it was gone again. “Obsidian is midnight black and precious, forged of flame and fury.”

“Please—” Maeglin gasped again, and Sauron smiled, his smile only widening as Maeglin twisted towards him. “Lord Sauron—”

“Mairon,” the Maia said in clipped tones. “The other is rather rude in the bedchamber.”

“L-Lord Mairon.”

“You are _beautiful_ , and do not let anyone tell you otherwise. You are a piece of art.” His long fingers ran across a thick scar high on Maeglin’s side, and Maeglin flinched. Mairon’s fingers stilled and he carefully removed them. “I am sorry,” he said, and his voice was _soft_ , and Maeglin felt suddenly and immensely overwhelmed.

Maeglin sat up, desperate to kiss him, not sure if he was allowed to, but Mairon’s arms opened for him, and he was being held, carefully, as if he mattered. Maeglin tried, clumsily, to embrace back the same way, because he had seen the way Mairon’s head went down during their audience with the Dark Vala today, the still tension that hovered in the Maia’s shoulders, and Maeglin understood that, so, so well. It seemed to work, because Mairon moaned into his mouth and kissed him hard.

“Tell me,” Mairon whispered, pulling back, “tell me what you would have me do to those who hurt you, darkling.”

Maeglin shuddered; Mairon’s hand pressed against his aching cock again, and he reached for Mairon’s in turn, but Mairon flashed him a fiery, sharp-toothed grin and pressed him back against the bed again, then straddled him. “ _Tell me_.”

“I—I—” That was the cleft of Mairon’s ass he could feel against his cock. “Hnnnghkkk—I want—I want you to hurt _them_ ,” Maeglin spat, and Mairon’s eyes lit up fire-bright. He stroked the back of his hand across Maeglin’s face, and Maeglin trembled, then reached up and grabbed at Mairon’s hips, trying to tug him closer, trying to get him to mount him—

“Tell me more,” murmured Mairon, leaning down to nuzzle at Maeglin’s throat, and Maeglin was moaning now, loud and wanton.

“Beat them,” he panted. No, more—The feeling of sharp eyes falling onto his skin, the hiss of painful words at his heels. “ _Cut_ them, make them _bleed_ —” The sound of doors shutting in his face, one after the other. The feeling of his father’s heavy hand—he twitched and trembled. Mairon caught his face in one hand.

“Eyes on me, little darkling,” he said softly. “I will do whatever you want to anyone who has harmed you. I will— _ung—_ ” They both cried out as Mairon sank down onto him. “I—I will—strip their skin from their bones and wring their blood from their bodies, those who told you that you were not beautiful. We will see how beautiful they are then.”

He shouldn’t want this, he _shouldn’t_ —but twisting somewhere in Maeglin’s gut was the hot bright knowledge that he did want it, that the images Mairon was conjuring were exciting, not abhorrent. To watch people fear him for something he had _done_ , instead of something they believed he would do—there was something darkly satisfying in that. He moaned again and thrust, and Mairon tightened around his cock and mewled and writhed.

“Like that, yes— _ahhh—Lómion_ —”

“Make them burn,” Maeglin sobbed as he thrust again and again into Mairon’s tight, blissful heat.

“Yes,” moaned the Maia. “ _Yes_.” And Maeglin bit his lip and realized he was smiling, because the Lieutenant of Angband was writhing on his cock and calling out his name, and maybe…that meant he was valuable to someone? And Valar but it felt good—so good—he clawed at fire-hot flesh and Mairon howled, riding him harder. Stars burst in front of Maeglin’s eyes, and, sobbing, he strained to match the increase in pace.

“ _Like that_ ,” Mairon hissed. “Dig your nails in—harder— _harder_ —” Maeglin felt fluid spatter across his chest, just a shade cooler than burning. “Come inside me,” Mairon's voice rasped, and Maeglin felt his eyes rolling up in his head and his vision whiting out as he did.

They were both trembling as they flopped down onto the soft bed. Mairon threw a possessive arm carelessly across Maeglin’s chest, and Maeglin whimpered softly, curling close to him. An instant later he wondered what he’d been thinking—now that Mairon had gotten what he wanted, he’d surely shove Maeglin away, and he’d be lucky to still be in the bed. But Mairon’s breath caught in his throat and he pulled Maeglin closer. “They will all burn, darkling,” he murmured softly in Maeglin’s ear. “Everyone who has hurt you, I will consume in flame.”

“My father is dead,” Maeglin retorted. “So good luck with that.”

Mairon licked his ear. “That sounds like an excuse to try my hand an infiltrating Námo’s domain,” he said cheerfully. “An intriguing exercise.”

Face burning, Maeglin shoved it into a pillow. “You don’t mean that.”

Mairon’s breath was hot on the back of his neck. “Try me.”

“Maybe I will.”

“At any rate,” Mairon told him, and Maeglin shivered again at the sensation of those delicate, too-hot fingers tracing long curlicues across his spine, “at any rate, I will keep you safe.”

The old nightmare rose to Maeglin’s eyes, the rushing wind, the black rocks so far below—“you cannot keep me from falling.”

“Perhaps not, but I can catch you if you do.”


End file.
